


Little Wings

by NimueOfTheNorth



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Canon Divergence, Dragons, Fusion, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-30
Updated: 2018-04-30
Packaged: 2019-04-30 09:33:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14494050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NimueOfTheNorth/pseuds/NimueOfTheNorth
Summary: After his father left the family, little Spencer Reid finds his life altered in the most interesting ways.





	1. Left

**Author's Note:**

> #1: I started with only one picture and an allotment of 1000 words. Now, I have this growing idea that I assume will take me down deep into the rabbit hole. I'll eventually share what I'm finding down there. For now, I have seven vaguely connected scenes to offer.
> 
> #2: I'm willfully disregarding the publishing dates of the movies Spencer names his dragons after. Chalk it up to AU.
> 
> #3: I'd like to give a shout out to the various fanfic writers that brought the Paddingtons to life far beyond their mention in NCIS canon. I'm not following anybody's version specifically, but it's due to the work of those writers that they popped straight into my head when I needed rich British relations to the rescue. (Eventually, there will be more than just Uncle Clive.)

 

Spencer was sitting by the window, staring outside. He was doing that an awful lot lately, but he couldn’t seem to help it. He was still staring down the path where his life had changed. Trying to absorb and adjust. He didn’t like change.

Warm, loving hands settled on his shoulders.

“He’s not coming back, Spencer. And even if he did, after the way he treated us, you especially, I wouldn’t allow him back. I never thought him this weak, but we’re better off without him.”

Spencer nodded. He understood his mom’s point. What was the point in a father you couldn’t rely on? One who just walked out on you when things didn’t go as he wanted them to.

He just wished he had a dad who was there, who cared, who loved them enough.

He wished he could be enough to earn his father’s love.

“It’s not your fault, Spencer. It isn’t mine either. Things are difficult, yes. Neither you nor I are ordinary people. But there were many solutions to make things easier and not simply leave us to our fate.”

“But maybe if I had -“

“No.” Fingers under his chin turned him to look into his mother’s sincere eyes. “You are perfect just the way you are. I’m sorry that your father couldn’t see that, but that’s his loss. If only he hadn’t hurt you with his blindness.”

He could see the truth in her eyes, unclouded by the schizophrenia that claimed her mind so often. There was the trace of dullness that came with her medication and that he knew she hated. But since his father had left, she tried very hard to take her meds anyway, so Spencer wasn’t left to his own devices. He wanted to believe her and maybe wanting could be enough to make it true. He nodded even though he knew his mother could see the lack of certainty in his eyes.

“With your father gone, things are a bit more difficult, and I don’t want you to suffer any more than necessary. I want you properly taken care off, and I know I can’t always give you that.”

Spencer wanted to protest, but his mom raised her hand to cut him off. “You are five, Spencer. No matter your intelligence, between your age and my illness it would be utterly irresponsible to stay on our own” She settled in beside him.

“Let me tell you a secret; one, I’ve never even shared with your dad. I’m not really a muggle. Technically, I come from a wizarding family, but our branch fell to squibs generations ago, so long, that we’re living and being looked on as muggles. But the main branch of the family never forgot about us and kept in contact. We were always welcome, and I spent many a lovely visit on the family estate during my childhood back in England. I always got along well with my cousin Clive who is now the head of the family, so I wrote to him and asked for help. He’s going to visit us tomorrow, and we’ll talk about what our options are. That might include moving to England, so I want you to think about that possibility. I know change is difficult for you, but I need to know that there’s someone there to look after you when I can’t.”

Spencer nodded dazedly.

He was still trying to comprehend that both of his parents were actually magical. That his father had been wrong to blame his mom’s supposed status as a muggle for all his disappointments.

He wasn’t sure where that left him.

 

* * *

 

 

Spencer was relieved when the next day their visitor arrived in a taxi. It wasn’t that he hadn’t been exposed to all sorts of magical transport through his dad, but he counted it as a good sign that the head of a magical house was comfortable with muggle transportation.

He still hid in his room and eavesdropped on the adults.

“Diana, it’s so good to see you again. It’s been too long.” The man who hugged his mom looked a few years older than her. He wore nice, very British looking clothes and his wavy hair was the same shade of chestnut as Spencer’s own.

“Well, magic or no magic, we do have the Atlantic Ocean between us. Thank you for making the trip, Clive. I wouldn’t have known who else to ask for help.”

“It’s nothing, Diana. You’re family, and we Paddingtons always take care of our own, all of our own. I’m just sorry that it took something like this to bring me here at all. Now, I believe you promised to introduce me to your exceptional son. Where is the lad? I’ve been looking forward to this a long time.”

Spencer took a deep breath and made his way down the hallway. He figured the newcomer seemed nice enough.

“Hi.” He just gave a shy wave and hoped the man wouldn’t hold out his hand or anything worse. It probably wouldn’t do to appear rude at their first-ever meeting.

“Hello, Spencer. It’s nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you.” They all settled onto the couches in the living room. “Do you know who I am, Spencer?”

“You are Clive Robert Gaius Paddington, the 16th Marquess of Newcastle-upon-Tyne and head of the Ancient and Noble House of Paddington. You are also my fifth cousin twice removed on my mother’s side. Mom gave me books about our family to read last night.”

“That sounds all very impressive - and also incredibly dull and impersonal, wouldn’t you agree? I was thinking, given that I’m only a little older than your mum, maybe you calling me Uncle Clive would suit us all best. Does that sound good to you?”

Spencer shrugged and nodded. He wasn’t even sure yet if he’d see enough of the man to warrant a personal form of address, but uncle sounded neutral enough.

“So, how soon can you two be packed up so I can move you back to England?”

“What?!” Spencer felt like he’d missed at least two conversations.

“Subtlety and patience were never your fortes, Clive,” his mom chided.

“You wrote me to take care of the both of you, and that is exactly what I want to do. But I can’t if we have the Atlantic between us. Let me take you home, Diana. You know the family seat has plenty of space and young Spencer here deserves to grow up surrounded by family.”

“I…,” Spencer didn’t want to say it, but he needed to know. Needed to know if he would be a disappointment yet again. “I don’t have magic. Will that be alright? Can I even live in a magical family home?”

“Spencer, I know you heard me earlier, and I meant every word. Everyone in this family is equally important and welcome, and we’ll support you any way we can and be proud of all that you’ll accomplish. And our estate is actually a muggle house. We haven’t lived in that house long enough to saturate it with magic so the electricity wouldn’t work. I’m not saying the house doesn’t have magical quirks, but I know you’ll be just fine with those. So, what do you say? Does a new start in England sound like a good plan?”

Spencer glanced at his mom and could see that she liked the idea. He wasn’t sure, but it also didn’t feel as if he had much to lose right now.

“Yeah. That sounds good.”


	2. Breaking Free

 

 

 

Almost seven-year-old Spencer entered the huge library in his uncle’s house. It was easily his favourite place on the whole estate.

“Good morning, Misses Julietta,” he greeted the only portrait with a little wave.

The elderly lady in her pale blue 16th-century dress smiled down from her ornate frame. “Good morning, Master Spencer. And what would you be up to among my sacred shelves on such a sunny morning?”

She always pretended to scold him for being inside so much when they both knew how well she understood his passion for books. Upon marrying the 4th Lord Paddington, she had turned the mess of books collected over centuries into a proper library and added to it greatly during her lifetime. She’d had her portrait enchanted to sit guard over her beloved collection for all eternity. Nobody had even tried to interfere with her wishes.

“Mom says I’ve grown again so I want to see if I can finally reach the Tolkien books. I still think it’s a wretched rule you thought up.” It was a long-standing argument between them that Julietta had set up the library so children could only read books they could physically reach. She’d sorted everything accordingly to allow independent access without risking the little ones getting into books they couldn’t handle yet. Spencer argued again and again that he was no ordinary child and that his mom would allow him to read whatever he wanted, but so far, Julietta hadn’t budged.

The portrait let out a sigh. “Why don’t we make Mr Tolkien the deciding factor? If you can indeed reach his books today, you are going to read them in here, where I can watch over you. Afterwards, we will discuss your reading experience and based on that, I might give you full access to the collection.”

“Really?” Spencer’s eyes grew big with excitement. He equal parts marvelled and cursed the magic that tied the portrait to the library. Julietta knew every book that was added to the collection, no matter how long after her death it had been published. But she also held the control about some of the spells woven into the library and not even his uncle as the Lord of the family could alter them, or so he said.

Spencer was never quite sure, seeing as he was a non-magical child growing up surrounded by a magical household. He had tried to read the texts on magical theory to gain an understanding, but so much of it seemed based on the ability to feel the magic that Spencer couldn’t make much sense of it.

Technically he wasn’t a muggle, but a squib with at least a little magic or he wouldn’t be able to talk to the portraits. Not that it helped in this case.

Spencer knew his lack of magic puzzled most of the family. But apart from his own feeling of disconnect to the world around him - something he was used to because of his IQ already - nobody here ever made him feel like a failure. They were proud of all his accomplishments and supported his curiosity as much as they could.

So Spencer considered discovering his English relations the best thing ever. Unlimited access to the library would be the cream, chocolate sauce and cherry on top of the sundae his life currently was.

He made his way to the fantasy section and almost whooped with joy when his fingers got hold of the desired books. He pulled _The Hobbit_ and the three book edition of _The Lord Of The Rings_ from the shelf, kicked off his shoes, and settled in on his favourite couch, vaguely registering that Julietta had elegantly seated herself on the grass in the nearest painting.

Spencer let himself get lost in the world of Middle Earth. He worried with Bilbo through his adventure all to its tragic end, then dove straight into the seemingly insurmountable task of Frodo and the fellowship.

Time in the real world lost its meaning as Spencer read page after page at a - for him - sedate pace. His mind was filled with flittering impressions of the character’s and sceneries, the enemies and dangers, the friends and victories and losses. If his eyes caught shadows and movement around him, they didn’t register. Too involved was he in the world of the books. Too well did the illusions blend with his imagination.

And there was this feeling deep inside him. A swelling and resonating that he’d sometimes felt before while reading. But never like this. Never so encompassing. Never so far beyond himself.

When he finally emerged from the world of words again, he looked around himself dazed and shocked.

“Oh no, what have I done? I’m so sorry, Misses Julietta! I’ll put everything back, I promise!”

He was surrounded by Middle Earth. Countless books had left the shelves and stacked themselves into impossible structures. There was Minas Tirith, Erebor, Barad-dûr back in the corner, the Hornburg between two shelves, and Rivendell in front of the window. And there were figures all over them. Made up from words woven into one another so tightly that they looked tangible. And Spencer knew exactly who every one of them was. They looked exactly as he had envisioned them while he read.

He had no idea what he’d done.

“Well, this is a rather impressive display of magic.” Spencer whipped around at his uncle’s voice. Beside him stood Spencer’s mom, smiling with delight twinkling in her eyes.

“Especially for a young lad who supposedly has little to no magic, I would say,” Julietta added.

Spencer was looking back and forth between the adults, both real and painted, and the fact that none of them seemed at all angry confused him about as much as how his imaginations had taken shape.

“I’ll tidy it all up, I promise. I don’t know what happened,” was all he could think of saying.

Almost as if in response to his puzzlement and insecurity the word figures started to quiver and fall apart, the words fluttering away like disturbed butterflies and vanishing into thin air.

“Don’t worry about that, Spencer,” Uncle Clive said and came over to the couch to reassuringly squeeze his shoulder. “What the magic of the library can’t sort back, the house elves will gladly do. We, my boy, have something to celebrate!”

That puzzled Spencer even more. “Why do we have something to celebrate? And what?”

“That my nephew is a most unusual young man and an overachiever all around, of course!” Uncle Clive picked him up and lifted him as high as he could in the middle of the still dissipating words. “You just skipped all ideas of accidental magic and didn’t even wait for your seventh birthday to blast straight through your first magical maturation in one day of reading. That’s amazing!”

“I always thought there was a magic in Tolkien’s work,” Spencer’s mom said with reverence. “But I’d never thought I’d get to actually see it and most certainly not in such a spectacular manner. I am, as always, infinitely proud of you.”

“Now, shoo, off with you lot!” Julietta gestured towards the door. “Go celebrate, drink lemonade, eat too much sugar! You’ve spent enough time in my library for today.” She didn’t look nearly as annoyed as her words let suspect.

“But we’ll have our talk, right? About me being allowed all the books?” Spencer let himself be tucked onto his uncle’s hip - even though he was too old for that - much more intent on Julietta not forgetting her promise than his dignity.

“Yes, we will, young Master Spencer. I never go back on my word.”

Spencer relaxed hearing that and turned his attention towards the real adults. “Hold on. You said magical maturation.”

“Yes, I did,” Uncle Clive said with amusement in his eyes.

“Does that mean I’m a wizard after all?”

“It most definitely does.”


	3. Unexpected

 

Uncle Clive had taken them all to Japan. He’d said it had one of the most vital, diverse and all around fascinating magical communities in the world and was, therefore, the perfect destination to honour Spencer’s first magical maturation.

Spencer was still amazed that he had magic at all.

For as long as he could remember, he could never be right in his father’s eyes. That he seemed to be among the only two percent of half-blooded children that didn’t have magic had been one of his dad’s worst grievances, until he eventually walked out on his family.

Spencer had never craved magic for himself, mostly just wanting to earn his father’s approval and affection, even though he already understood that that was likely impossible. Since his magic had made itself known a few weeks ago, he had thought once or twice what his father would say now, thought about one day confronting him and showing him what the son he cast aside was actually capable of.

But then his magic would stir in him and brush over his skin. It would react to the world around him or his emotions and thoughts. He would sense something with his magic that he had been entirely unaware of before. And he felt on a fundamental level that the magic was all _his_ and just for him and that his father simply didn’t deserve to be a part of that at all. He’d much rather share it with the people who surrounded him now, and who shared all his joys, not just the once they deemed proper.

Exploring Japan was indeed an amazing experience. Between the bustling cities, the beautiful landscapes, the exotic food and the sheer overabundance of new magical impressions Spencer felt a little breathless and utterly exhausted every evening.

The thought had crossed Spencer’s mind that maybe they should have waited with the trip until his magic had settled down some. Right now, it was still whirling through and around him and reaching out for everything it could find. Uncle Clive had assured him that was perfectly normal after a maturation, especially one as strong as his, and that it was no reason to postpone their trip until the next school holidays came about.

His mom had been drawn back and forth between worry and her thirst for adventure, so in the end, Spencer’s curiosity had been the deciding and winning factor. He really didn’t regret it.

Today, they were exploring the market in one of the magical districts scattered throughout the country. There was nothing that wasn’t on offer, and Spencer barely knew where to look first.

When they approached a large stand with cages and baskets displaying a variety of magical reptiles, including various smaller kinds of dragons, he had to restrain himself from touching them all. His magic was calling out to them, almost like it was searching for something but Spencer knew that animals might dislike the touch of a stranger as much as he did and could react violently, so he pushed his hands into his pockets. Just to be safe.

There was a basket with an opening to the front settled almost at ground level, and Spencer crouched down so he could see inside. It was dark, but there was movement in various spots in the basket. Spencer thought he heard the flutter of wings and tiny claws against the wicker material.

A little head with huge eyes popped up right in front of him, and for a moment, they blinked at one another. Very slowly, the little face moved closer and closer towards Spencer - or maybe he was leaning forward, he wasn’t sure. The zing of magic as their noses touched was breathtaking and in the same moment, the little being launched itself straight at Spencer, who tumbled backwards with the surprise.

He was scrambling to get his hands out of his pockets, to catch both his fall and the little reptile clinging to his shirt.

He had barely a chance to register that what he was holding was the tiniest dragon he’d ever seen, when two more appeared in the opening of the basket, only to launch themselves at him with all their might. One made it safely onto his belly, but the other one slipped and only reached Spencer’s knee where he dug his claws into the material of his trousers, and maybe a little bit of skin.

He gathered the excited little dragons in various shades of red against his chest and was amazed that they could all fit into his hands. They were trying to jump up to his face only to tumble back down and around each other.

What had Spencer most befuddled was that he could feel the little dragons in his magic. It was somewhat indistinct but no less there. And he didn’t feel like he’d ever want to let go of it again.

Lifting his hands up to eye level, he stared at the three, and they stared right back. “You belong with me - all of you.”

He got vigorous nods in return and looked at his uncle a little helplessly.

Uncle Clive sighed with an indulgent smile and reached for his money pouch. “Let’s make sure that you can take your familiars with you without causing an international incident. I have a feeling we’ll all have to keep on our toes to keep up with you, lad.”

Spencer just blinked, first at his uncle and then at his dragons.

He’d only just gotten his magic. How had he acquired three familiars without even trying?


	4. Playful

 

There were some unusual noises in his room, that’s what had woken him up in the first place. Now, unusual noises was a relative phrase when you were growing up in a centuries-old magical home, but these one were new.

Spencer lay still and kept his breathing even, listening for any additional information about what was going on.

It was a telltale little huffing noise and a cackling like laughter that clued him in and made him relax. He didn’t know what his familiars were up to, but he was fairly certain it wouldn’t be dangerous.

Opening his eyes, he found the three of them in a patch of moonlight in front of the shelves with the board games. They had managed to pull out a bunch of boxes and had piled playing pieces in a heap between them. Spencer decided to just keep watching for now, seeing what they were doing.

They took turns rolling a die with their snouts, aiming to keep it on the rug in what Spencer guessed was an attempt not to wake him. He couldn’t see how the dice fell, but depending on the result, the dragons would sometimes pluck a number of tokens from the pile, each sticking to one kind. Sometimes, they just passed the dice on to the next and sometimes they had to put playing pieces back, none of them looking happy when it happened.

While the heap in the middle was shrinking and their individual ones were growing, Spencer fell asleep again never learning the winner.

 

* * *

 

 

The next morning at breakfast his mother looked at him inquisitively. “You look tired, Spencer. Didn’t you get enough sleep last night?”

“The trio woke me up. They were playing a game but trying to be quiet so don’t be mad at them.”

His mom looked a little disgruntled, not always sure how she felt about three dragons in her son’s bedroom, but Uncle Clive interfered.

“What game were they playing?”

“They made one up. I’m calling it _Hoard._ They’d gathered playing pieces from various boxes, one kind for each of them and when I counted the piles this morning, there was the same number of each type. They rolled a die and got to put two, three or four tokens of their kind on their individual pile, sometimes nothing happened, and sometimes they had to put two pieces back. I couldn’t see how the dice fell and fell asleep again before the game ended but I’m guessing the goal was to collect all of your treasure before the others did. I want to ask them to play it with me later.”

Clive looked thoughtful. “Given the traditional superstition dragons have towards the number six, that’s likely the one they assigned the losses to. And you’ve never played anything like it with them? Curious.”

“I take it, it’s not normal for dragons less than two years old to invent their own games?”

“No, it isn’t. But a familiar bond has influence in both directions. It’s not entirely surprising that your intelligence would rub off. It’ll be interesting to see how having three familiars will influence you over time.”

“Is that dangerous for him?” Spencer could easily hear the edge of paranoia in his mom’s voice and mentally prepared for her to slide into an episode. They had been less intense and fewer in between since they moved to Britain, being surrounded by family magic seemingly helping to settle her mind somewhat. But no matter what, Spencer would protect Fuchur, Mushu and Toothless from anything, including his mother’s blind paranoia.

“No, Diana,” Uncle Clive laid a hand on her arm, which Spencer was fascinated to see actually calmed her down somewhat. He wondered if there was active magic involved. And if he could learn to do that for his mom. “A familiar bond is inherently protective on both sides. The dragons are still very young, and their personalities haven’t fully formed yet. I think for now they are making Spencer a bit more playful than he was before, and I think that is good for him at his age. Most often the influence of multiple familiars on a witch or wizard is actually less, but we will have to wait and see. Whatever happens, magic has intended them for each other, and it will work out for their best.”

There was still scepticism and worry in Diana’s eyes, and Spencer resolved to keep the trio out of her sight for the day, just in case.

“Maybe I’ll come and watch the four of you play for a bit later. I’m curious to see what the little mischief makers have come up with.”

“Sure! You could even play a round with us. Mushu was collecting all the chess pieces from all my sets. Fuchur had everything round and flat like chequers stones. And Toothless had all the red and yellow pieces. I guess that leaves blue and green for me, but we could add Mikado sticks or cards for you!”

Uncle Clive smiled. “That’s a lovely idea. I hope I can spare enough time to learn the game.”

Spencer beamed. In moments like this, he was so happy to have his uncle in his life. It still hurt that his dad had left them, but Uncle Clive was in many ways better to have around. His dad had never looked this proud of him, had never encouraged the thoughts he came up with. Uncle Clive never made Spencer feel like a disappointment or a weird freak.

He pushed the rather sullen thoughts aside. He’d much rather dig into his breakfast, wake up the dragons and ask them to play with him. He wasn’t even mad they hadn’t tidied up their mess. They were only babies after all. Creative, clever, playful dragon babies.


	5. Prickly

 

Spencer had noticed the Trio tucking away little portions of their food and then carrying it outside later when they felt unobserved. Luckily, they weren’t quite as sneaky as they hoped, yet.

As much as dragons were known for hoarding, that didn’t usually apply to food. He knew that with them carrying magical fire in their chests, the early December cold couldn’t do them any damage but they normally weren’t all that fond of the outsides this time of year, so he worried.

The next morning, after giving the dragons their breakfast, Spencer pretended to be absorbed in a book and then followed the three into a corner of the garden full of bushes and trees. They all placed their morsels of food in front of a heap of dry leaves and waited.

Spencer almost held his breath waiting behind them.

The leaves ruffled, and a tiny hedgehog appeared, eagerly wolfing down the bites of food and then almost snuggling in between the dragons.

Spencer moved, and a branch snapped under his foot, startling the hedgehog to almost flee. His dragons, however, blocked its path and turned pleading eyes onto Spencer.

“Hedgehogs aren’t pets. You can’t keep it.”

Mushu let out a whimper, curling protectively around the small, prickly body.

“But you’re right. This one is so tiny, we should help it over the winter. It must have been born too late in the year to fatten up in time.”

Of course, Misses Julietta’s library had plenty of information to help them care for little Peak, as they named her and she eventually had enough reserves to hibernate in one of the unused closets.

 

* * *

 

 

Spring came, and Spencer was almost as heartbroken to set Peak free in the gardens as his dragons were. He knew his familiars had sneaked into the closet to make sure she was fine throughout the winter.

Thankfully, Peak was the loyal sort and made her home in the Paddington gardens, coming by the house for treats and a cuddle with the dragons ever so often.


	6. Mischief Makers

 

“Mushu, no! Stop that!” Spencer carefully disentangled the little dragon from the basket it had done its very best to tear apart with claws and tiny teeth.

“You are supposed to be on your best behaviour. Professor McGonagall will arrive soon, and it is entirely up to her whether or not you three are allowed to come to Hogwarts with me.” He held the little reptile up in front of his face to scold it. “Can’t you follow your brother’s example just once and behave? I don’t want to leave you guys behind when I start school but familiar or not, a dragon doesn’t get automatic permission into the school so you have to prove to the Professor that you can be trusted.”

There was a trembling in his voice. The idea of leaving his three dragons behind was much more scary than the prospect of leaving home to go to boarding school come September 1st.

They were a breed commonly known in the West as Japanese Pocket Dragons and were growing and maturing slowly to eventually equal the size of a large cat. It would take a few more years until their wings were strong enough to carry them but that didn’t stop them from getting into all kinds of mischief in the meantime.

Especially Mushu and Toothless proved to be very creative in that regard. Spencer had picked the names from his favourite muggle movies and assigned them mostly by colouring. All three brothers were shades of red, but Mushu had sprinkles of gold throughout his scales, Toothless was a very dark burgundy, and Fuchur, who the breeder said was the oldest by about a day, had an almost white belly and a mother of pearl sheen all over his scales. The way their characters turned out, Spencer sometimes wondered if the names had been something of a self-fulfilling prophecy, they fit so well.

They had become wonderful companions for Spencer, who had a difficult time relating to most children his age and could often be found sitting on his shoulders as he read or playing out scenes he read allowed. They were doubtlessly clever and infinitely curious, though they didn’t talk yet. The grown-ups would still often scratch their heads when they saw the little dragons collectively wrangle a book and turn the pages so they could read it without their human around.

But now it was time for Spencer to start Hogwarts and his letter had arrived at the beginning of summer with the expected limitation that owls, cats or toads were allowed as pets - no word about dragons.

Spencer had almost declined his place at Hogwarts in favour of homeschooling at the prospect of being separated from his familiars, but Uncle Clive wouldn’t have any of it, which is why they were now expecting the deputy headmistress for tea to evaluate the situation.

Spencer had brought one of their sleeping baskets downstairs, hoping that they’d feel comfortable and stay inside of it. He’d made sure to prop their current book up against the side so they wouldn’t get bored.

He’d also promised to take them outside to climb the trees in the garden after their visitor was gone if they were on their best behaviour. It seemed to work on Toothless, who had snuggled up beside Fuchur and was reading along with his brother - not always a given. But Mushu was in a restless phase and had apparently decided he’d rather work his way through the material of the basket. Not that he couldn’t have simply climbed over the edge.

“Why can’t you do as you are told for two hours, Mushu? Please don’t ruin this!” Spencer didn’t know what to do without getting harsh with his little familiar, and he hadn’t actually done anything to warrant that. He just had sucky timing. A long, thin tongue hit Spencer’s nose and tickled it. “This won’t actually help us with the professor, you know,” Spencer said, trying not to giggle.

“And why would that be?”

Spencer whipped around at the stern voice behind him. “Professor McGonagall! I didn’t hear you arrive, ma’am.”

“Quite alright, Mr Reid. Your uncle let me in. Now, who do we have here?” She settled beside the basket on the floor much more gracefully than her age would make anyone expect and carefully held her hand out to Fuchur and Toothless, who had immediately abandoned their book in favour of the newcomer. Unsure of what the social rules were, Spencer decided to just plop down beside the teacher and make introductions.

“You have very nice dragons, Mr Reid. But what is the matter with the basket?” She pointed at the almost hole.

Spencer flushed and looked down at Mushu still in his lap, preening as McGonagall scratched under his chin. “That was Mushu, earlier.”

“And does he make a habit of gnawing through all manner of things?”

“No! They are all really good about not breaking things. At least not on purpose. Sometimes they just get clumsy. I think they are about to teeth again and Mushu is usually the first.”

“And what do you do for those times?”

“They have leather straps, and they really like those hide bones they sell for dogs. They just gnaw on them, but I didn’t want to bring them downstairs for tea. It’s not exactly pretty.”

“Let me tell you a little secret, Mr Reid,” McGonagall leaned down the small distance between them. “My animagus form is a cat. I’m not half as delicate as people would like a lady my age to be.”

Spencer was still gawping when she straightened up and plucked Mushu from his hands. “Now, wherever your young Master will get sorted, I have a feeling that my Gryffindors will adopt you as an honorary mascot. Your colouring is just perfect!”

Spencer guessed that meant they were all going to Hogwarts.


	7. New Friends

 

“Spencer, are you alright?”

He didn’t even turn towards the voice. It was one he had already become familiar with over his first few weeks at Hogwarts.

He had retreated to a mostly forgotten walkway along the outside of the castle, where the overgrown arches gave a little protection from the chilly autumn wind. He had still been grateful when one of the Hogwarts Elves had popped up, wordlessly handing him his cloak.

He had known someone would find him and was glad it was Penelope. The sixth-year prefect was kind and patient. She’d at least not add insult to injury.

Spencer looked down at the coils of dragon in his lap. Toothless’ dark burgundy scales were barely visible as his brothers had wrapped themselves around him, protective and worried. Spencer could feel the whirling magic in the youngest dragon where his hand was touching his belly from below. They were soon getting too heavy for him to hold them all like this, but right now he didn’t care. They all needed the connection.

He’d been so furious.

Even now, only the worry kept a lid on it, turned it into simmering anger.

He’d run up the stairs to the girl’s dorms, barely registering that he shouldn’t be able to do so. The magic of his hurt familiar had pulled on him, and Hogwarts hadn’t fought him one bit.

From the door to the first years’ room, he’d seen a confusing picture.

Three second-year girls stood around one of the trunks that had Toothless perched on top of it. He was slightly swaying and favouring one of his front legs but still hissing at the girls, one of which was cradling a bleeding hand and all of them yelling insults at his little dragon.

From the corner of his eye, he had noticed a few first-year girls, huddled on one of the beds, trying to be invisible.

Spencer hadn’t cared about any of them.

He’d pushed his way through the older girls, ignored their protest, picked up Toothless and run out of the room. He’d barely stopped in the common room to let Fuchur and Mushu hop onto his shoulders before fleeing the tower altogether.

He’d run and hadn’t stopped until he’d reached his sanctuary where nobody ever disturbed him.

Until now.

“Will they send him home?” It was the one question on his mind. He’d already started to formulate the letter to his uncle in his mind, asking to please be picked up. There was no way he’d part with any of his familiars.

“No, they won’t.”

“What?” He looked up at Penelope in surprise. He hadn’t even dared to hope.

“Toothless was only defending himself and the property of another student. Not that Cho and her cronies didn’t try to paint a different picture, but as soon as Professor Flitwick showed up, the firsties told him what had been going on. Then Luna arrived and told him how her things kept vanishing and that Toothless had started to hang around her things to protect them. She seems equally fond of him as he is of her.”

“He has a soft spot for females. I sometimes wonder how he ended up bonded to me,” Spencer said and watched as the tight tangle of dragons slowly relaxed and more of Toothless became visible.

“I’m sure he’s happy with his choice. He’d just like to make a few additional friends. Anyway, Cho seems to have forgotten quite a few things. For one, that Toothless isn’t actually missing his teeth. Secondly, the school motto. If it’s a bad idea to tickle a sleeping dragon, it is the height of stupidity to threaten one that’s awake, no matter the size. And third, that our Head of House is part Goblin. He takes questions of property just as seriously as any other of his kind and grew absolutely livid when he heard that members of his house were stealing from one another. He’s awarded Toothless 20 house points for standing up for a fellow Raven, and Cho and the other girls will serve detention at least until Christmas, longer if he still doesn’t feel better about them.”

Spencer was staring at Penelope’s gleeful smile in disbelieve.

How could his worst fears all vanish into nothing like that?

“You’re not kidding, are you?”

“I’d never do that to you. I know how tight the bond with a familiar is. How is Toothless?”

“I think his dizziness has mostly passed. Dragons have a pretty thick skull. But he’s been favouring one of his legs.”

“May I?” She held her hand out towards the dragons. “I’m really good in Care of Magical Creatures and have helped in my father’s practise as long as I can remember. I’d like to join him after school and an apprenticeship.”

Fuchur came forward and smelled her outstretched hand. It was very reminiscent of a dog but what he was really doing was sensing her magic. He eventually butted against her fingers gently with a little purr that told Spencer he was pleased with what he’d found. Mushu followed his lead in unwrapping himself from Toothless, and Spencer used the chance to stroke down the smooth scales on the darkest brother’s back. He could feel the little dragon arching into his touch in response.

Penelope had just left her hand outstretched and waited for Toothless to extend his injured foot onto her fingers. Spencer barely heard the wandlessly whispered spell and was surprised when the lilac light of a diagnostic charm enveloped them. This spoke of a true healers gift, and he now understood why Fuchur had relaxed so quickly.

“It’s only sprained, nothing broken. I’d like to bandage it back in the tower to give it a bit of support, and you might want to cut back on the defending, little guy, but you’ll be right as rain in a few days.”

Spencer let out a relieved breath. “And you’re sure that we’re not in trouble?”

“Absolutely. Come on, before we all catch a cold out here.”

They slowly walked through the castle, Toothless safely cradled in Spencer’s arms, Mushu perched on his shoulder, and Fuchur allowed himself to be carried by Penelope.

“You know, maybe Toothless got it right,” she said out of the blue.

“What?”

“Maybe you should try and make some more friends. You and your familiars present a very closed off unit, and I understand how it’s difficult for you to connect with people. But that doesn’t mean you have to stay all by yourself. Luna certainly sees the world completely different than most of us, so you have that in common, and Hermione Granger is easily as bookish as you. She might enjoy keeping up on her muggle schooling with you. I’m not even sure if they tell the Muggle-borns of that option.”

The idea of friends was both daunting and intriguing. “I… I’ll think about it,” was all the answer he felt comfortable with.

Looking down at Toothless he saw a smug little grin on his face. Yeah, his familiars were definitely influencing him as well. But that was okay.


End file.
